Championship Matches
by Karu-DarkAngel
Summary: The Royal Rumble is over and Mike won. Guess who did too and earned himself a title shot at Wrestlemania? Slash. PWP. Miz/Punk


**A/N: Actually the Tuesday-evening time slot was reserved for another chapter of New Year's Resolution, but I had the sudden urge to have Mike bend over Punk over whatever surface available and fuck the living daylight out of him. Yeah, that's all there is to it. I don't own anything and I don't earn anything either. Enjoy.**

**Warning: sex between two men, blowjob, language (come on, it's Phil and Mike)  
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"Punk!" it wasn't a greeting but a command.

Mike didn't care if he sounded overly harsh and impolite when he opened the door to the locker room of Nexus, not bothering to knock and wait if someone was about to invite him in. He was the Miz, he was the WWE Champion – he didn't need any permission but his own to enter any room in the backstage area. The champ did as he pleased and it was better for everyone else to just get used to this fact instead of starting futile attempts to disobey him.

Two heads whipped around to stare at him when entered the room, one pair of green and one pair of brown eyes staring at him for a split second before Mason Ryan was on his feet and got in his face, standing in front of him in a menacing pose, only inches separating their bodies.

He reached out with one of his arms to stop Riley from pouncing the 300 pounds of pure muscle, knowing what his apprentice was about to do without having to look at him. Alex was always one step behind him, never leaving his side except he explicitly ordered him to leave. Miz could always rely on his shadow, even if he felt like he didn't need him most of the time – it was better to be safe than sorry after all.

"Tell your pitbull to get out of my face." he ordered in the general direction of Punk, not the least bit intimidated by the rookie that took up his entire sight.

Silence ensured for a moment and any other man most likely would have felt fear at the possibility of the Nexus leader doing the exact opposite of what he was told to do and commanding his tool to attack him, but Mike wasn't just _any other man_. He waited.

"You're dismissed, Mason."

The Miz allowed a smug smile to play on his lips when Punks newest pet stared down at him for a second, clearly not liking the order but knowing better than to disobey the man who had made him great, before he took a step back and shot the man sitting on the bench in the middle of the room a questioning look.

Phil just clicked his pierced tongue, the silver ball gleaming in the neon light. Ryan was trained well indeed, because he didn't even open his mouth to ask but grabbed his gym bag and left the locker room with a last glare at Mike. Still not intimidated the champ just snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Make sure that we're not interrupted." he instructed Riley, his bright blue eyes fixating on Punk, "Then leave, I'll see you at the hotel."

"Sure." Alex vanished from his side in a soft rustle of clothing and only a moment later the door closed behind him, leaving Mike and Punk alone in the room.

"You're here to congratulate me?" the older man chuckled, "I'm supposed to feel honored, I guess."

"Don't run your mouth, Punk. It won't do you any good."

With two steps he was at the door, locking it, and with another five he was standing in front of Punk, who was still sitting on the wooden bench like he didn't have a care in the world, his legs crossed in front of him, an almost lazy smile on his lips. It irked Mike how much at ease he was around him.

"I've been running my mouth longer than you and I still don't have a scratch." Punk looked up at him, his green eyes mocking Mike, "Your empty threats won't work on me, _boy_."

"So you think I'm making empty threats?" he sent the other man a feral grin, "How about you ask Randy in how many months he can wrestle again when the docs are finished with him?"

"Please, you basically sacrificed Riley to get him from behind. The guy has to be black and blue all over." Punk snorted.

Taking another step closer he glared at the Nexus leader, an almost-growl tearing its way from his lips, "Because you know all about sacrifices, don't you, Punk? If I remember correctly you had four of them tonight to finally get a shot at _my_ Championship."

"Don't get all worked up, you would've known if it was an insult." Punk inspected his finger nails gingerly, not even bothering to shed the man towering in front of him another glance, "…or maybe you wouldn't. Who knows?"

His patience was too thin for this kind of games at this point of the night and with one swift motion Mike buried the fingers of his right hand in Punks brown hair, yanked him up hard and threw him into the nearest wall of metal lockers, not pausing once to think about the fact that he could actually hurt the older man with his actions – or maybe he wanted just that.

The other wrestler didn't even make a sound, even if it must have hurt with how his right wrist bumped into the steal. He simply turned around and leaned against the lockers, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Want some?" Phil licked his lips and gave him a daring look, "Come get some."

Mike was back in front of him in seconds, their bodies so close they were almost touching. Glaring he fixed his eyes on the tender spot on Punks neck were his pulse was beating steadily under his skin, "When did you get so much like Cena, Punk?"

Still completely relaxed the older man let his olive eyes travel up and down Mike's body from his polished dress shoes over his neatly fitting vest to the spotless white shirt and the perfect sitting tie and collar before they set on his face.

"When did you get so much like Jericho?" he wriggled his eyebrow, "Minus the class, of course."

If he expected any resistance he would have been disappointed, because Punk didn't even try to defend himself in any way when Mikes left hand closed around his throat, the other one already busying itself with the task of loosening his tie from around his neck and throwing the useless garment somewhere behind him before he began to undo the buttons on his collar.

"You want to be fucked until you scream, do you, Phil?

Speaking had to be difficult for him, but save for a soft gasp Punk showed no sign of being out of breath, "Ah, you still think you can scare me. How sweet."

Mouthing off earned him a slap across the face that whipped his head to the side and a satisfied growl escaped Mike when he noticed the shiver that ran through the other man's body when his head collided with the unforgiving steal – so Punk wasn't immune to pain after all.

"You talk too much, but I think I know quite the way to shut you up." he didn't need to explain how exactly he was about to that any further when he shoved the other man down to his knees, his free hand unfastening his belt buckle while the other pulled hard on Punks hair to drag his head up, exposing his throat in the process.

A low moan escaped Phil's lips when their eyes locked and Mike involuntary gulped when burning green eyes bore into his blue ones.

Hands came up to clutch his hips the moment he shoved his pants and boxers down his thighs, his half-hard cock springing free, almost nudging Punks lips who drew back a little to inspect his swelling manhood with a scrutinizing look.

"So we are hung. Who would've thought?" the older man cooed, paying no mind at all to the fingers tugging on his hair.

"Get to work bitch!" Mike tried to shove his hard on down Punks throat with force, but much to his annoyance the man on the floor kept his mouth tightly closed, the head of his erection barely brushing past his lips.

Phil placed a light kiss on the engorged head of his cock, his eyes twinkling, "Who said that I'd suck you?"

Mikes eyes flashed, "Who said that you had a choice? So now you either get going or I decide that pulling your hair out is more fun than having you blow me."

"Sounds fair enough." Punk shrugged.

He was about to ask the older man what was taking him so long, but Mike chocked on his words when a hot mouth engulfed his length without warning, the guy going down on him nearly all the way in one go. Fuck, he didn't even gag – Phil was a pro at sucking dick, who would have thought?

"Could've given me a warnin'." Mike pressed the words out between clenched teeth, one of his hands still buried in the other mans hair and the other supporting his weight on the lockers while Punks head bopped up and down on his cock in an obscene way, his lips brushing against the base of his shaft when he relaxed his throat and took him down all the way.

It was perfect. Fucking Phil Brooks sucking his fucking dick was fucking perfect.

The man very well knew how to make the experience worth his while, his teeth scratching along Mikes cock every time he went down again, those damn fuckable lips sucking him like a kid eager to devour a lollipop. A soft tongue traced the vein on the underside of his length, pressing the cool steal of his piercing into his hot flesh, the metal ball sending shivers down his spine that made his hips buck forward on their own accord.

And the bitch took it all, let him fuck his mouth for all he was worth, Mike plunging into him as deep as he could, a series of moans leaving his lips when Punk let him slip out far enough to be able to lick his tip. The feeling of steal prodding his slit was early enough to send him over the edge, making his arousal sky rocked.

A deep, feral groan tore from his throat when the other man let his shaft slip out of him with a soft pop, a thin strip of salvia connecting Phil's mouth to his cock.

"Didn't get what you wanted?" the hands on his hips held him in position when Punk came up to press a quick kiss to his lips, "Hard luck buddy."

It only needed one swift motion for Mike to slap the hands off his hips, grab the other man, turn him around and slam him into the lockers _hard_. He was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath from Phil, who didn't resist when he put one of his hands in the middle of his back to make sure that he wouldn't move.

"Oh, your ass is gonna regret that, believe me." he couldn't stop but chuckle when he pulled down the older man's trunks.

Punks back quivered with suppressed laughter, "My ass would've regretted it either way darling."

Mike didn't give an answer right away. Still holding him in position he used his left hand to part the other mans ass cheeks, lining his cock up with the puckered entrance, the mixture of salvia and precum spread all over his shaft making it glisten in the sharp neon light.

The sharp slap echoed through the whole room and Phil bucked into the lockers with a surprised yelp.

"Fuck you bitch, you just went down on me to get me lubed up."

"Clever boy." the grin was obvious in his words when Punk wriggled his ass in Mike's direction, his left cheek still red from where he had hit him, "I at least have to pretend to be after you tomorrow. Any body part of me that _doesn't_ hurt will help."

"You think a little spit will spare you _any_ pain?" a smirk settled on his face, "I don't think so."

"Well, you-" whatever words he wanted to say were swallowed by a cry of pain when Mike plunged into him, internal muscles quivering around the younger mans dick, drawing him deeper into that delicious tight heat that was Punks ass.

"Fuck!" Phil braced his hands against the lockers.

Mike would have most likely agreed had he been able to form any coherent sentence, but he really wasn't. _Damn_, that man was one of the tightest pieces of tail he'd ever had.

"Now I understand why half the locker room is always after you." he practically chocked the words out.

Punk snorted, "Really funny, Mizanin. More fucking and less talking please."

Usually he would have made a point in doing anything but what the older man wanted him to do, but unfortunately Mike had to agree with the guy his cock was currently buried in. So he limited himself to a deep grunt and started to pull out of him only to slam back in a second later, the tight muscles still cramping around him and trying to fight the intrusion, only highlighting his pleasure in the process.

He was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath from Phil who pressed back against him but said nothing to indicate if it was from pain or pleasure. Mike honestly didn't care that much but just concentrated on picking up a rhythm that suited him, his pelvis slamming the other man into the lockers whenever he thrust home again.

"That's all you've got?" Punk's voice was hoarse, "Fuck, Chris really was a better fuck."

"You really wanna bleed, do you, Punk?" he backed his words up with a nearly brutal shove that ripped a wail from the older man.

"Pah…" he was painting heavily now, "I had 'Takers cock up my ass. Come talk again when you've gained… uuh… another three inches and at least- fuck, harder!"

Mike complied, adding as much force to his thrusts as possible and slinging one of his arms around Phil's waist to both steady himself and the other brunette whose arms and legs were visibly shaking under his assault, even though the only thing the other man had complained about so far what that _it wasn't hard enough_.

It was at his next thrust that wasn't harder but angled to go deeper when he got the first real moan out of the older man, who suddenly started to push back against him for real, rubbing his ass on his groin in a nearly desperate way. Obviously he was hitting his prostate over and over again because Punks his rigid posture was crumbling now, giving way to needy whimpers and almost pornographic moans that made Mike's balls even heavier than they already were – fuck, he was close.

Trying to control his breathing he sneaked one of his hands down Phil's abs to his crotch, his fingers automatically fisting around the rock-hard and already leaking erection of the other man.

"Keep your hands to yourself…" Punk's sentence was interrupted by another gasp for air, "…don't need …not gonna owe you…"

"Oh shut up!" Mike didn't care about the other man's bitching – and hey, the guy went down on him, he wouldn't go out of his way by giving him a hand.

His fingers started the pumping the man in his arms and he felt the effect immediately, Phil's inner walls clamping down on him harder every time he drove in, making slamming inside him an absolutely amazing experience that made his cock throb more with every single thrust. Almost, almost… his fingers tugged at the skin of his lover's dick one last time, his thumb caressing the leaking tip while he applied more pressure and then Phil trashed and bucked into his hand with a satisfied cry of release, squirting his cum all over the younger man's fingers.

Burying his teeth into the neck of the other man with enough force to break the skin Mike muffled his own, way more vocal screams of orgasm when his release washed over him, his hips plugging as deep into the hot, willing body as possible when he shot his load into Punks tight ass.

Phil's arms gave out under him and if it hadn't been for Mike's arm around him and the locker in front of them they would have both fallen to the floor instead of simply leaning against the cool metal, the older man's forehead pressed into the steal while Mike tried to keep them upright with only one arm.

"Not half bad, Mizzy." it didn't even taken Punk a minute a regain his composure.

"…because it would kill you to admit that it was awesome." Mike slipped out of the other man who couldn't completely stifle a hiss of pain at the action.

"Don't get too full of yourself." with an ease that would have fooled anyone who hadn't known that he'd sex only minutes ago Punk pushed himself away from the wall and out of the younger man's half-embrace, gripping him by the neck and pressing one rough, satisfied kiss to his lips, his tongue stroking Mike's in an almost lazy, post-orgasmic haze.

"Now get out of my locker room."

Running a hand through his hair Mike pulled his pants up, his blue eyes following Phil's butt naked form walking through the room to get a towel, dwelling on his ass just for a second.

"You still have a title shot at Mania I'm not happy about." he huffed and gave up trying to bring his clothes in a passable position.

"Well, you better not lose a Championship Match in the next two months." Punk gave him a sly grin, "Because to be honest fucking Orton or Cena wouldn't be half as much fun as fucking you."

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**My first sex scene in 3,000 words. I'm proud ;) ...reviews are love.**


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